


What Brothers are For (Double Twins AU)

by Suitov



Series: Dangan Double Twins [4]
Category: Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa Zero, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - Twins, Autistic Character, Autistic Kamukura Izuru, Bad Parenting, Bullying, Complicated Relationships, Echolalia, Fluff, Gen, Hinata Hajime and Kamukura Izuru Are Siblings, Hinata Hajime and Kamukura Izuru Are Twins, Human Experimentation, Kamukura Izuru Has Feelings, Kamukura Izuru Project | Hope Cultivation Plan, Kamukura Izuru watches My Little Pony, Protective Siblings, Sibling Rivalry, Speech Disorders, Unhappy Ending, autistic hinata hajime, you won't see much of Hajime's neurodivergence because Izuru POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28441662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suitov/pseuds/Suitov
Summary: Before they reached high school age, long before they met the Komaeda twins, there were two brothers.And, for a while, everything under the sun was in tune.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime & Kamukura Izuru
Series: Dangan Double Twins [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1444726
Comments: 6
Kudos: 61





	What Brothers are For (Double Twins AU)

**Author's Note:**

> Set in our chat server's 'Double Twins' AU, in which Izuru and Hajime Hinata are brothers. Summary of AU available on the [series page](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1444726).
> 
> This fills in some backstory for the Hinata twins.
> 
> Additionally, starrylitme posted [an alternative version of the Hinata twins' past](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28482663). Two cakes!

Izuru Hinata stared at a tree trunk and thought about roughness and smoothness and hugeness. He thought that tree bark could be a good maze for ants. If you got to the top, you’d wait for your brother and then you’d get ice creams or a balloon. Probably not a balloon. Izuru didn’t like the squeaks and the bangs. He traced tiny wrinkles with solemn hazel eyes and tried to solve the maze.

An ant crawled up the trunk. It didn’t walk in the grooves; it crawled straight over the maze walls. Izuru thought that was cheating. He reached out a finger to see if the ant would tickle him hello—

“Zuuuuuu!” said his brother. “Lift me higherrr! I won’t be the Ultimate Fruit Picker if you keep moving arounnnnnnd!”

Izuru held Hajime’s knees and stretched up as high as his tippy toes would let him. Hajime grabbed a big fruit and pumped his arm in the air with a “Yes!” and Izuru wobbled backwards for a moment. Hajime reached for another—

“Who are you kids? What’re you doing with my good peaches?!”

Hajime yelped. “Aa! Zuru, run!”

Izuru ran for home with his brother, on his shoulders, holding on tightly.

Once they’d escaped the lady, Hajime ate the peach. He offered Izuru a bite of “the bruised bit, cus you weren’t a very good assistant”. Izuru, who had already stroked the fuzzy skin to his heart’s content, didn’t want a bite. He wanted his brother to have it all.

The grownups found out it was them. Somehow. Izuru had no idea how grownups knew what they knew. Being sent to bed without dinner was a little bit sad. Being told that “Ultimate Fruit Picker” was not and never would be a proper talent was worse.

* * *

“Aren’t you precious in your little sailor suits!” said the grownup. “Twins… I always wanted twins. You can dress them up in so many things!”

Izuru held on to Hajime’s hand and hoped she wouldn’t pat his head.

“What are your names, dears?” asked the grownup.

“I’m Hajime and this is Zu. I mean Izuru. I’m the oldest!” said Hajime boldly.

“Izuru? What an unusual name. Where is it from, dear?”

Izuru knew but couldn’t say. Hajime knew but said “um,” so he’d probably forgotten.

“Ah, Yui, you’ve met the boys,” said their mother.

“Aren’t they getting big?”

“Like little sunflowers!”

“They were about to tell me where their first names came from.”

“Ah!” said their mother, and held onto their father’s arm and smiled. “They’re named in tribute to Hope’s Peak Academy. Izuru after the honoured founder, of course, and Hajime for new beginnings. A hopeful name, you see.”

“Of course! You two being such notable patrons, I should have expected as much!”

The grownup had heavy hands with tanned skin that smelled of skin cream like their mother’s but not as nice. She patted Izuru’s head.

Izuru tugged Hajime’s arm, hoping to sneak back up to their room, but Hajime wanted to stay, so Izuru followed him around until they were sent to bed.

* * *

This time Hajime was going to find his talent for Ultimate Chemistry. Izuru sat cross-legged next to him on the bathroom floor.

“Next potion ingredient, Ultimate Assistant Zuru!” said Hajime, sounding very important and just like a real Ultimate Chemist should. They didn’t have a white coat, but Hajime wore the white button-up shirt their mother made him wear for important grownup dinner parties, which Izuru thought was just as good.

Izuru passed him the toothpaste.

Hajime added a generous squeeze to the mixture and set about it with the silicone spatula they’d borrowed from the kitchen. The mixture was looking a bit lumpy. Hajime said that was probably from all the chemistry happening.

Izuru passed him their father’s hair dye. Next, he passed the bubble bath. The potion started bubbling. Hajime said that proved that they were doing real science. A splash of mouthwash went in, then a pot of ink Hajime had found in their mother’s desk, then a healthy squirt of perfume.

The potion didn’t turn mystic blue and purple, nor did it start to sparkle. It was a sort of yellow brown with white bits all lumped together at the bottom.

Even Hajime didn’t insist they try drinking it.

* * *

“I’m thinking of letting it grow,” said their mother. “He screams so much at the hairdresser, it’s easier if I just trim the ends at home.”

“A bit girly, isn’t it?” said their father.

“I like girls,” said Izuru.

“That’s my boy,” said their father.

Their mother said “At least his brother behaves. Hajime, would you _please_ brush that cowlick down?”

“Yes, mom,” said Hajime.

“I don’t know _what_ to do about that thing, I really don’t,” said their mother.

“His drill is the drill that will pierce the heavens,” said Izuru.

“Mooooom!” whined Hajime.

“Don’t make fun of your brother, Izuru.”

Izuru agreed. He wouldn’t do that. Hajime was so amazing that it had never crossed his mind.

* * *

“I don’t think you’re allowed to do that,” said Izuru.

“Yeah I am,” said Hajime.

Today, Hajime was trying sports. It was Izuru’s job to read the rules and tell him. Izuru felt sure Hajime would have a terrific sport talent.

“It’s a _ball_ , Zu,” added Hajime with a stamp of his foot. “That’s why it’s called basketball.”

“But you’re travelling.”

“Yeah? I gotta travel with it so I get it in the basket!”

This was, Izuru thought, a good point. “But it says you mustn’t walk without dribbling.”

“That’s weird,” said Hajime accusingly, but he mustered up a mouthful of spit anyway, then set back off towards the hoop.

Hajime did not discover a talent for basketball that day, nor for baseball, hockey (using the baseball bat), Siths and Jedis (the Jedi using the baseball bat and shouting out the attacks, the Sith using a convenient stick and doing the krrshvwoomvwoomvwooms), or what Hajime insisted was pronounced “kurocky” and involved knocking a ball through hoops with the gardener’s hammer. Still holding the hammer, Hajime lay in wait on the lawn for a while, but no moles had the decency to appear and be whacked. Izuru hadn’t been able to make a bow and arrow, even with the good stick he’d found, so Ultimate Archer would have to wait too.

It was a fun day, but disappointing. Still, Izuru pointed out, they had the second half of the alphabet to try tomorrow.

* * *

“Oh, this old frock?” said their mother. She put a hand on the arm of the important grownup. “I just threw it on. I never even wear it.” She threw back her silky hair and laughed. The important grownup smiled and said something else, probably.

Izuru was too busy watching the wine-red fabric slip through the air.

“Whoa,” said Hajime, later. He did a twirl in it. “A cape like a superhero! Now I’m definitely an Ultimate!” He started bouncing on his bed. Somebody screamed from the next floor up.

Izuru watched the wine-red fabric flop up and down behind his brother. The way it caught the light made it look almost wet. It didn’t float quite perfectly, because of the patch Izuru had sewn on the bottom corner. (It was meant to be a foal on a shield, but it might have looked more like a donkey. Hajime had asked what it meant, and Izuru had said “we will never stop the journey, not until you have your cutie mark”.)

Their bedroom door opened suddenly. Their mother shouted “Who cut up my new dress? _Hajime!_ ”

“What? I didn’t do anything!” said Hajime, indignantly.

Their mother paused, still holding the dress with the huge hole cut in it. She took in the scissors, sewing kit and associated mess on Izuru’s desk, not Hajime's. She took in the cape Hajime was still wearing.

“Izuru? Did you do this?”

Izuru nodded.

Their mother picked up the edge of the cape. Hajime shifted around on his feet. “What did you line this with?”

Izuru mimed tying a knot around his neck.

“ _My gold scarf?_ ”

Izuru nodded.

“Izuru, that cost a hundred thousand yen…” Their mother rubbed the material with her fingers. “The edges… you even hemmed it.” She stared at the almost-even lines. Izuru had tried his best with a ruler, but the stitches had wandered off their planned path.

“Are… we in trouble?” asked Hajime.

Their mother straightened up. She turned to Izuru. “You’ll start sewing lessons next week,” she said.

Izuru waved and gestured.

“Use your words.”

“Is… will…” Izuru gave up. “We’ll celebrate the future hand in hand,” he said.

Their mother scrutinised them both. “I don’t think there’s any point in Hajime going.”

“He ain’t heavy; he’s my brother.”

“Well, these lessons will be just for you,” said their mother firmly.

Izuru didn’t understand, but at least there was a way around that.

* * *

“I got to learn knitting and crocheting today and she showed me how lace is made,” said Izuru.

“Huh,” said Hajime.

“I’ll teach you. Here, the hooked ones are for—”

“I don’t want to learn dumb old knitting,” Hajime announced.

“But your talent…”

Hajime kicked off one of his slippers and watched it fly across the room. Then he did the same with the other slipper but it didn’t land on top of the first one. “We’ll try _these_ talents last,” Hajime said. “They can’t be that special if you can do them.”

Izuru resolved to think of some really special talents for Hajime to try.

* * *

The seat cushion was plasticky and stuck to his skin and the fan on the desk was too loud.

“Are you certain you don’t want to look into specialist schools?”

“No!” said his father.

“There’s nothing wrong with our boy,” said his mother.

“He’s not going to some mollycoddling place where they’ll teach him to be a waster,” said his father.

The other grownup made a short humming sound. “That’s a misconception. A specialist school would actually help him fit into society.”

“Izuru isn’t going to fit into society,” said his mother. “He’s going to lead it.”

His father patted his arm. “Because he’s a winner, aren’t you, boy?”

“Winner winner chicken dinner,” said Izuru, and “the winner takes it all,” and “I want to go to the same place as Hajime.”

“See,” said his mother, “he knows his own mind.”

* * *

On Mondays Izuru had piano and languages and on Tuesdays he had Japanese history and poetry because he’d bawled and bawled when they tried to make him learn angling and on Wednesdays he had woodworking and ballet and on Thursdays he had clarinet and pottery because the sculpting class was full and on Fridays he had painting and traditional dance and on Saturdays he had kanji and violin.

Izuru liked learning. He wanted to learn everything. If he learned everything, one day he would look at the world and everything would make sense. Nothing would be too loud or too bright or hurt. He would know the rules of talking to people and getting them to like him. He could touch as many animals as he wanted. He could find out Hajime’s talent and help him become the best at it, and Hajime would get into Hope’s Peak, and Hajime would be happy and wouldn’t get mad at him so often.

The thing Izuru didn’t like about his lessons was that they left him less and less time to spend with Hajime. He would rush up to their room afterwards and try his best to teach Hajime everything he’d learned. But Hajime would scowl and fidget and go and try a different talent instead, without him.

* * *

Izuru was scared to go to school. He would only go, he said, if he and Hajime were in the same class.

“You’ll tell them, won’t you?” he said in the car. Hajime was holding tight to his new book bag and looking out of the window.

“Yes, yes, whatever,” said their mother.

Izuru was reassured.

He was taken to a room with lots of other children. Hajime wasn’t there. He asked the teacher. “We always split up siblings,” she said. “Otherwise they distract each other.”

Izuru tried to explain that his mother had promised, but he was told to sit down and do his worksheet. He did. It was easy. He put his hand up and tried to tell the teacher he’d finished, but she told him not to tell lies.

The children around him all looked at him. They didn’t look very nice.

Izuru decided he wasn’t going to talk very much at school.

* * *

On the third day, he discovered the school library. That was a good day.

* * *

Hajime didn’t want to speak their secret language any more.

“The kids at school say it’s weird,” he said. “Nobody else’s brother talks in made-up words.”

“It’s real,” said Izuru. “They speak it at the North Pole.”

Hajime groaned. “The North Pole isn’t real. A girl in my class told me that Santa Claus is just your parents.”

“Joulupukki,” said Izuru.

“We’ve gotta only talk Japanese like _normal_ people,” Hajime insisted.

* * *

Izuru sneaked into the library during recesses instead of going outside. He went through the nonfiction section and looked at every topic. There was even a book about the history of Hope’s Peak, which Izuru absorbed from cover to cover. By the time he was caught and forced to go outside, he had made a long list of talents for Hajime to try.

Hajime didn’t seem interested in the list. Sometimes Izuru would go to find him in the schoolyard and Hajime wouldn’t see him and would walk away.

Izuru started sitting on the school steps alone with a book or some homework. Some days someone’s ball would fly past or hit him. Sometimes Hajime would be the one chasing after it.

* * *

“The gifted and talented program!” said their mother.

Their father crouched down in front of Izuru and knock-knocked on his head but he didn’t do it as hard as a door. “I always knew there was someone in there,” he said.

“Can Hajime come too?” asked Izuru.

“It’s just for _promising_ students, dear,” said their mother.

“Then I promise he can be in it too.”

“Don’t tell lies,” said their father.

Hajime made an angry face at Izuru. Izuru felt not-happy. This was all wrong. Izuru was all in favour of gifts, especially plush toys and coloured inks, but when it came to _talents_ , Hajime should be the one.

* * *

Hajime, said the teacher at parent-teacher evening, while he was outgoing, seemed to have difficulty relating to his peers.

With this, at least, Izuru knew he could help. He went and found some of Hajime’s classmates when their teacher wasn’t there, stood up at the front (even though he hated people looking at him), and gave them a presentation about why Hajime was very cool and popular and they should all be his friend.

Hajime came home the next day crying. He went straight upstairs and wouldn’t talk to Izuru. Izuru asked his parents what was wrong. His mother said that whatever it was, Hajime would get over it. His father said kids like Hajime had to get tough sooner rather than later.

Izuru knocked on the bedroom door and then, because it was his bedroom too, opened it. “Do you have a tummy ache?” he asked.

Hajime, lying in bed, said “I have a _brother_ ache,” and put a pillow over his head and pretended to be asleep. Izuru could tell he was pretending because he kept making big snoring sounds. Izuru didn’t interrupt him in case he was trying to be Ultimate Actor.

* * *

“Fighting!” said their mother.

“Did you win?” asked their father.

“I knocked him over, then his friends rubbed dirt in my hair,” said Hajime.

“What on earth were you fighting about?” asked their mother.

“He said I don’t have a talent and I won’t go to Hope’s Peak and he said I’m ordinary!” said Hajime.

Izuru vibrated, offended.

“Ah,” said their mother, then didn’t say anything else.

“Next time, bring your brother and keep a stone in your pocket,” said their father, then went back to painting the wall pieces for his model building.

Hajime muttered something about a stone being more useful.

* * *

“Fighting _again_!” said their mother.

“Did you win?” asked their father.

“Kind of,” said Hajime.

“What happened this time?” asked their mother. She sounded tireder.

“They tried to take my school bag,” said Hajime, “but Zu was nearby. He tripped them over and pushed them and made one of them cry and then they left me alone.”

Their mother looked at their father.

“We didn’t _hit_ them,” said Hajime, “so it wasn’t really _fighting_. It’s not fair they gave us detention for _fighting_. I didn’t even punch anyone. I was going to, but I didn’t.”

“Judo lessons?” their mother said to their father.

“Judo lessons,” their father said to their mother.

“Can—” Izuru began.

“No, he can’t,” said their father.

Hajime left the room and went upstairs.

* * *

“Have you picked your subjects for next year?” asked Izuru.

“PE, I guess,” said Hajime.

“I’m dropping PE,” said Izuru. “I can’t work out what else to drop, though. I want to take all of them.”

“Good for you,” said Hajime. He turned off his light and got into bed.

Izuru stared at the schedule on his desk in case the maze of conflicting subject periods had rearranged themselves to let him learn everything.

“Tell me what you’re taking, and then I’ll drop those and borrow your textbooks instead,” he suggested.

“Why don’t you do my homework for me while you’re at it,” said Hajime. “Just do everything.”

“I’ll do your homework,” said Izuru, “if you teach me how to do your handwriting.”

“Oh my gods,” said Hajime, “go to _bed_ , Zu.”

“Okay,” said Izuru. “Want to talk for a bit?”

“No,” said Hajime.

* * *

All that summer, Hajime had seemed to do nothing but stare at the brochure for Hope’s Peak Academy. He wouldn’t talk about school choices. He wouldn’t talk much at all, at least to Izuru.

But everything changed the day their mother got a letter.

“It’s called the Reserve Course,” she said. “It’s not for talents, but it’s still Hope’s Peak. Really Hope’s Peak!”

Hajime looked more excited than Izuru had seen him for years.

“Hardly how we expected things to turn out, but at least it’s HPA,” said their father.

“I was honestly afraid to show my face around the yacht club,” said their mother.

“Never thought I’d be able to say that both our boys made it,” said their father.

“Can I go?” asked Hajime, hands clasped, legs quivering.

“Yes, of course, you’ll both go,” said their father.

“I actually wanted—” Izuru began.

“You’ll both go,” said their mother.

Hajime turned to him, laughing, and gave him a high five, and it was almost enough to make Izuru happy about it too.

* * *

Izuru even got to coach Hajime for the entrance exam. It was the most time he’d got to spend with him since he could remember. Even better, for once Hajime would seek _him_ out, rather than Izuru feeling like a nuisance begging for attention.

Hajime found the essay questions hardest. Izuru ended up writing several general-purpose pieces for him, helping him memorise them, and teaching him how to adapt one or another to fit most questions.

Sometimes Hajime would smile and laugh about something, and it was almost like when they were little. This was a relief for Izuru. It had been hard and confusing these last years, never knowing what he was working towards, but now they were back together: Hajime determined to get into Hope’s Peak and Izuru right there helping him. That was what brothers were for.

If things could stay like this forever, Izuru thought, he would be happy.

But the date of the exam arrived, as dates do, and in due course they were both invited for an entrance interview.

* * *

It had been a strange interview. The people had gone off several times to speak in low voices. They’d asked again and again about being twins, about his brother, had him confirm several times that they were identical. Izuru was worn out and stressed from having to repeat himself.

Hajime said it had been the same for him. “Just my luck if they have a one-per-family policy,” he said with a shake of his head.

“If they do, I’ll drop out,” Izuru promised him.

“Gods, you always have to be Mister Perfect.”

“What?”

But then they were thanked for their time, told they’d hear within two weeks, and ushered out. There was a long line of kids their age waiting outside.

* * *

Their parents called them into the living room. It was a long conversation, about medical trials and twin studies and something called the Hope Cultivation Plan.

Their parents were excited. They kept looking into each other’s eyes.

Hajime was excited. He kept nudging Izuru and tapping his feet on the carpet.

Izuru was never exactly asked, but he found himself in a new role as a test subject.

If he felt any misgivings, the light of hope in Hajime’s eyes was an adequate distraction.

* * *

“I wonder what talent I’ll end up with,” said Hajime.

“Maybe science, or animals, or engineering,” said Izuru hopefully.

“You know what’d be funny… hey, Zu, do you remember way back when we used to go around trying all those things, looking for my so-called talent?”

“Of course I remember, Hajime.”

Hajime laughed, balled up his socks and threw them at the laundry hamper, missing by two feet. He laughed again. He sounded so happy that Izuru’s toes curled under his blankets. “I can’t believe we were so dumb.”

Izuru didn’t know what to say to that.

“I just thought, it’d be funny if I end up with one of those talents we tried so long ago.”

“I don’t care what talent you get,” said Izuru. “I don’t even really care about talent. I just want you to be happy.”

There was a pause while Hajime got into bed and turned out his light.

Across the room, Hajime said “I didn’t think you cared how I felt.”

“A heart’s a heavy burden,” said Izuru.

“I mean... to hear something like that from you… that wasn’t something I expected.”

“Ohana means family,” said Izuru.

“Are you quoting movies again?”

Izuru tried to make words come. It was still hard, even after all these years, especially when they were important words. He wrestled against his confusing brain for quite some time.

“Because… you’re my brother,” he said at last.

Hajime was quiet.

“All I’ve ever wanted was for you to like yourself as much as I like you.”

He thought Hajime might already be asleep.

“You’re… really important,” he said into the darkness.

* * *

Izuru was known for reading everything he could get his hands on.

Whether he was supposed to see it or not.

* * *

Izuru didn’t like the neurologist. He interrupted and was mean and Izuru always felt like going away and hiding when they talked. Izuru went to talk to him anyway.

“Are you going to do all these things to my brother?” he demanded.

The neurologist had a manga volume and looked back to it as soon as he’d checked what Izuru was holding. “Someone who reads things before they sign? You’re _definitely_ not an Ultimate.”

“Are you going to do all these things to my brother?” demanded Izuru.

“It’s more like a blanket consent with examples than a comprehensive list.” The neurologist turned a page in the manga that was volume two of Magical Space Heroine Roberta Bondar and had a smear of cheese dust on one corner.

“Are you going t—”

“Fuck’s sake, yes, those are some of what’s planned. I hope you don’t think I’ll spend time explaining all the theory to the control twin.”

There had been a bad feeling inside Izuru ever since he stole his parents’ copies of the forms. The bad feeling wasn’t going away. He said, quietly, “I don’t want you to do these things to my brother.”

“And I don’t want to hear your whiny voice.” The neurologist turned the page.

“I won’t let you do these things to my brother,” said Izuru.

“Sure, pull out just like that. They’ll _totally_ let you.” The neurologist slammed the manga down on the table and it was read a third of the way through and the spine got bent because he put it down too hard. Izuru’s hands jerked open at his sides but he kept them quiet. The neurologist said “Look, don’t think I don’t see it too. Everything about this project smells like bullshit, but you’re too late and a damn slice too naive. And your parents, I’m guessing they don’t have the same qualms, or I wouldn’t be seeing _your_ gormless face in my lab because _they’d_ be upstairs complaining to the board. But no, in fact, I saw them happily signing their consent, didn’t I? Paperwork’s all submitted according to procedure—fuck's sake, I sound like Soshun—and I literally can’t think of any reason those old money-vampires in the top office would agree to cancel this.”

Izuru didn’t know who Soshun was so he didn’t know if the neurologist sounded like Soshun. He didn’t much care. Also, vampires were not real. It was, as usual, difficult to keep up with the things the neurologist said.

He looked back at the forms.

_...the twin brothers Hajime and Izuru Hinata, henceforth ‘the subject’ and ‘the control’, shall…_

_...the right to act in loco parentis to Hope’s Peak and any party nominated by…_

_...grant discretion to perform upon the subject any procedures, experimental or otherwise, deemed necessary, including but not limited to…_

“It doesn’t actually say,” said Izuru.

The neurologist, who had picked the manga up again, made a loud sighing sound that sounded like hurrrrrrgh. “What now?”

“You _won’t_ do these things to my brother and I’ll tell you why,” said Izuru.

For once the neurologist didn’t say anything mean or anything else.

“It isn’t specified anywhere that you’re going to do it to Hajime,” Izuru insisted. “It says one test subject and one control subject. You can just designate him the control.”

“You dumbass, that wouldn’t change anything.”

“Yes it would.”

“No, it’d be _you_ getting experimented on.”

“Yes, it would,” said Izuru, finding it harder and harder to speak the more he had to repeat himself.

“Dumbass,” repeated the neurologist, “it’s all the same procedures you were whining about not wanting to happen to your brother.”

“Yyy, yes,” said Izuru, and it took so much effort that his foot started tapping and wouldn’t be quiet. That’s the _point_ , he wanted to say. It won’t happen to him because it’ll happen to _me_.

“Are you… seriously volunteering to get cut up to protect that idiot?”

Izuru had run out of yeses. It was frustrating. He had to fall back on old habits. “Give him back,” he said softly. “He’s my brother. Take my leg; take my arm; take my heart; anything.”

The neurologist was quiet for a moment and he didn’t talk because he was biting his lip and looking kind of mad and then he stopped biting and started talking and he said “You… you dummy. Nobody wants your stupid leg. We’re only interested in brains here.”

“You can have it,” Izuru whispered.

“Fine.” The neurologist shut his manga volume hard. “I’ll make up some excuse for why we have to switch the subjects around. Are you sure he even wants you doing this? He’s been so gung ho about it. I’d have expected that kid to walk through hell for a talent.”

Izuru thought about the hope on his brother’s face. He thought about those things on the form, printed there so matter-of-factly as if nobody would think they were wrong, wrong, bad, wrong.

He thought of hundreds of bruised elbows, sprained wrists, gravel embedded in huge red scrapes across knees, tears trickling down grimaces of bravery, waiting for Izuru to stick on the special plasters with the animals printed on them, because their mother didn’t know how to sing the pain pain go away song right.

He thought anyone who could allow their brother to be hurt must have something wrong with them.

“Hajime will understand,” he said decisively. “Hajime always understands me.”

That was what brothers were for.

**Author's Note:**

> Virtual cookie for identifying Izuru's echolalia references. (Not all his dialogue is quotations. Some is.)
> 
> [I'll Do Anything by starrylitme](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24476491) is an ongoing story set after this.


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